Bromeo and Juliet
by Iofiel Ecanus
Summary: 17 year old Sam searches for his long- lost brother after accidentally discovering his father has kept a secret so unforgivable. After meeting Dean for the first time, Sam becomes aware that his life has changed completely, which isn't always a good thing... AN: This is my first fic, so please leave reviews (good or bad) :) thanks! x
1. Introducing Sam Winchester (1)

The early-Springtime breeze drifted onto Sam's face as he paced up toward the front door, tapping the slanted door-knocker against its metal frame as he arrived. A pause, followed by weighted footsteps and a creak of the rusting hinges eventually brought his father's figure into view.

"Sam? What have I told you about keys?" John asked impatiently, "I'm in the middle of a job. If I don't get Singer's car fixed by tomorrow-" He hesitated, then smiled. "Well we'll worry about that later."

Sam couldn't help but smile too. Uncle Bobby was a family friend and as much as he wrongly confided in alcohol to keep him sane, he was far from evil. "I'm sorry; I must have forgotten them today." Sam lied, knowing full well that they had fallen to the bottom of his bag and that he was just too lazy to dig them out. "But if there's anything I can do to help, dad, I'll be in my room."

"Sure, son... Actually, there was something~" John's voice trailed off to silence as his son dashed past him, up the stairs to his room, carelessly shutting the door behind him. "But I guess it could wait …" he added as he drifted back to the garage, a look of concern plastered across his war-stricken face. Picking up the wrench, John suddenly found himself trying to process each thought that came to him, repeatedly getting stuck on one particular secret that he'd sworn never to reveal to Sam, until today. He was still uncertain as to why he thought it had to be today. However, instinctively, John knew that for their relationship to stay strong, he'd have to tell him soon…

Meanwhile, Sam lay on his bed, waiting for his laptop to load. His law essay was due in two days, and as much as he wanted to plan his birthday gathering, he knew where his priorities lay. Once loaded, Sam let his fingers dance avidly over the keyboard until the words formed neatly arranged paragraphs.

An hour had passed, the conclusion had concluded and Sam felt a sigh of relief approaching.

Before shutting down his laptop, he decided to briefly check his e-mails, knowing that his inbox would have built up since the last time he checked. However, as he began to scroll through the list of letters, he became conscious that his father hadn't signed out after borrowing his laptop the previous day. His gut reaction was to sign out straight away, but curiosity swiftly got the better of him as he began to snoop through the long list of read mail. Most of them appeared to be bills and spam and Sam soon began to lose interest, until his eyes unexpectedly latched onto a message that appeared to contain his name. Tentatively opening the mail from 'Mary', Sam felt his skin grow cold. He skimmed through each sentence, trying to digest what he was reading. His heart boiled with regret, his face froze with horror. "What is this?" he questioned still absorbed by the words that seemed to haunt his eyes and churn his stomach.

**Knock, knock, knock.**

Sam jumped, quickly slamming the laptop shut, and pushing it away from him. "Uh, yeah," he murmured, awkwardly choking on his words.

"Dinner's on the table." John replied, with a worried smile.

"Sure, dad. I'll be right down. I just need to, uh, save my work."

John nodded and headed back down to the kitchen. Sam sat still for what felt like a lifetime. Did he really just read that? Surely he couldn't have. His brow scrunched with anxiety as he whispered; almost breathlessly, "Do I really have a brother?"


	2. Secrets Revealed

**Smack!**

Sam slammed the laptop onto the table. John peered up from his dinner; his expression showing that he'd been expecting this.

"How could you hide this from me?!" Rage infiltrated Sam's thought processes as he glared at his father. John sighed.

"How did you find out?" He asked steadily, ignoring Sam's previous question.

"It doesn't matter how I found out. What matters, is you failed to tell me that I actually have a mother, dad. A mother who didn't 'die in a fire', who is still alive and who has been looking after my older brother alone for the past 17 years." Sam's inner demon unleashed itself unto his father as he awaited an explanation.

"I was going to tell you, I just couldn't find the right time… Look, I know I was wrong keeping this from you and I've lamented not telling you from the start, but Mary and I both agreed it would be easier if you and Dean didn't know."

"How in hell would it have been easier? I can't believe you, dad. I thought we could trust each other. No secrets." Sam's heartbeat grew normal as his rage was replaced with frustration, then again with disappointment.

"Look, Sam. All I want is for you to be happy. Now, I'm not going to stop you meeting your brother. I would never do that. I cannot defend my actions but what I did, I did for a reason and at the time, when Mary and I separated, we tried to do right by you kids. I know I made a mistake. I'm sorry." The sincerity of John's words nearly made Sam forgive him automatically. In normal circumstances, it would have, but this was different. This was one secret that could never be forgiven.

Grabbing his laptop, Sam retreated back to his room to retrieve the e-mail. Typing in Mary's e-mail address into the web-browser's search bar brought up a link to a small cafe business in Lawrence, Kansas. Surprised, and also relieved, at how close-by his unknown relatives were, Sam scribbled down the address of the café on some scrap paper, picked up his bag, containing his keys and wallet and headed out of the house, the door-knocker rattling as the door slammed behind him.

Now alone, Sam found it difficult to control his emotions. As they seeped through his tough exterior, tears emerged from both eyes and began the inevitable trail down his face. He felt betrayed; devastated that the life he knew was miniscule in comparison to the truth, which only motivated him further to tracking down his family.

Luckily, he knew Lawrence pretty well. John had always taken him on day trips to different parts of the city. So getting the right bus route would be easy. The problematic part would be the reunion with his mother after almost 18 years of separation… And meeting Dean, _his brother_, for the first time.

As he boarded the bus, Sam's head brimmed with questions about his brother until his mind halted on one in particular; "What if he doesn't know I exist?" He said aloud, forgetting he was surrounded by people. After exchanging sheepish looks with the elderly woman sat opposite him, Sam skulked back into his self-absorbed state, awakening to reality, only when he reached his stop.


	3. Any-Bobby There?

"Hey, Winchester. What tha hell d'ya think you're doin to my car?" Bobby's southern drawl soothed John's ears immediately, causing him to drop the wrench he was holding. He turned to face Bobby, his eyes red from the tears that had assaulted them, moments ago.

"He found out, Bobby… Sam knows."

Bobby's face grew softer, but the scowl soon returned.

"And you're out here beatin' up my car with that darn wrench? What are ya mopin' around for y'idjit? So what if 'e found out about Mary, ya knew 'e would someday. What I wanna know is why you're not chasing after him, 'nd knockin' some sense into tha boy!"

"I tried to, Bobby. He just wasn't up for listening."

"Well then, you make him listen. You gotta stop wollowin' in your own self-pity, and get a grip."

John knew Bobby was right, but he was stubborn and not willing to co-operate anytime soon. That was just the Winchester way.

"Its fine, Bobby. He's gone out anyway. I'm just gonna give him some time to mull things over."

Sympathy washed through Bobby as he recognised his friend needed a break.

"Somethin' tells me you could do with a beer."


	4. Coffee & A Slice of Pie

In all honesty, it was a nice looking café and it was reassuring to witness Mary's accomplishments. But as hard as Sam tried, something kept pulling him back; stopping him from delving into a new part of his life. It was 7 p.m. The café was empty. He'd stand out way too much if he went in now.

After a minute of loitering outside, Sam's inner debate became interjected by a deep, husky voice. "We're still open." The waiter said, inviting Sam inside.

"Ah... Great, thanks." He couldn't turn back now, he'd definitely look weird. Inhaling deeply, Sam strolled inside, allowing the smell of fresh coffee to fill his nasal passages. Taking a seat by the window at the front of the establishment, Sam engaged with his surroundings, attempting to hunt down his long- lost mother.

"Can I take your order?" A guy in his early twenties, the waiter from before, asked as he approached Sam's table.

"Uh, yeah, I'll have a coffee, thanks." Sam replied, distracted.

"Ok dokey. Could I interest you in today's special: homemade cherry pie? It's to die for."

"Uh... yeah, sure." He answered absent-mindedly. Sam couldn't stand pie, but he was so focused on the important issues ahead of him, that he dismissed the waiter completely.

"Awesome choice, my friend." The waiter smirked, jotting down the order. Sam peered up at him and smiled falsely, as he left to make the coffee.

Moments later, the waiter returned balancing a tray on his fingertips. He presented Sam with the coffee and a sickeningly large slice of pie.

"Thanks." Sam mumbled impolitely. The waiter stared at him, and proceeded to take the seat opposite his customer. Puzzled, Sam turned his head and began to analyse his actions. Ignoring Sam completely, the waiter dragged the plate of pie towards him, cutting off a slither with the fork. "Now, I don't mean to pry," He babbled, mouth full of dessert, "But you seem like one _hell_ of a distracted guy right now. I mean, c'mon man: if you don't like pie, don't order it. It's just wasteful."

"How did you kn-", Sam fell silent, realising how foolish he must look to the waiter right now.

"I've worked here since I was 13, I think I know a pie person when I see one, and you my friend, are not the type."

Sam chuckled. Surrendering, to the guy's intellectual deductions, he admitted "You got me: I'm more of a salad guy."

The waiter gasped, choking slightly on the food he continued to consume. "Dude, salad?" He grimaced.

"Yeah, salad. I like it. So sue me." Sam challenged, light-heartedly, noticing the waiter's expression.

"Well now I'm sure there's something wrong with you." The waiter teased.

Sam, now fully engaged in conversation with this friendly stranger, felt all anger towards his father drift away as the two of them aimlessly chattered late into the evening. Looking at his watch, Sam jumped. It was 10pm. Realising he'd left his dad alone, he felt a sudden urge to leave.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't realise how late it was. I'd better go." He interrupted the waiter's retelling of what he did to Penny Marcle in the 6th Grade.

"Oh, dear. I better close up shop." He replied, also realising how late it was.

Sam hesitated. "But it was great talking to you." He began to rummage for change before his actions were halted.

"Oh no, don't worry about that." the waiter said sincerely, "It's on the house."

"Oh... Thank you. Are you sure?" Sam smiled, slightly confused at the waiter's kindness.

"Yeah. You look like you needed it, and, well; I guess I kinda ate your pie."

Sam laughed, looking down at the table. "Yeah I guess you did… Thanks."

"No worries. Anytime." He joked "'Name's Dean by the way."


	5. Who?

The room suddenly shrank in size and Sam's chest grew tight. This was Dean? This was his brother? Had he _unknowingly_ been conversing with his _brother _for the past three hours?

"Wait," Sam thought "If I tell him my name, would be know we're brothers? Sam's a common name, though... I could be anyone…" Realising he had been staring at Dean for the past few minutes without revealing his own identity, Sam tried to gather his thoughts. "Uh, Sam." He went to shake Dean's hand.

"Sam, hmm?" Dean drawled out.

Sam gulped, not knowing whether he'd prefer his brother to know of him or not.

"Neat name." He continued with a goofy grin.

Sam exhaled, relieved that he didn't have to do the entire reunion ceremony, right now.

"See you around, Sammy" Dean bellowed as Sam dashed out of the café to the bus stop.

"Yeah, maybe..." Sam said to himself, as he boarded the bus back home. Usually, he despised being called 'Sammy', but the way Dean said it, made him feel at ease; as though that one word had the power to remove evil from the darkest demon.


	6. What A Day

Welcomed home by the worried face of his father, Sam suddenly felt the guilt surge through him. "Dad, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time. It won't happen again. I~"

"Sam, it's ok, I understand. You needed some time alone, I'm not angry and I certainly don't expect forgiveness. I'm just glad you're ok." Before Sam could conjure up an answer, John had disappeared upstairs.

Sam angrily kicked the sofa before perching on its arm, head resting in his tense hands. He just wanted to scream for an eternity, until all the pain bled out of his soul. In an attempt to push his emotions deep inside, Sam elected to focus on his thoughts. Although, meeting Dean for the first time had been draining, Sam already missed him. For his entire life, he'd yearned for an older sibling; someone to look up to, and now that he'd found them, Sam knew he couldn't possibly sacrifice something this special. However, he also understood that if Dean didn't know of their relation, or at least couldn't remember, then strolling up to him with a beaming smile, exclaiming: "Oh, hey Dean! By the way, I am your brother." wouldn't be the smartest idea. Nevertheless, he needed to see Dean again. Sam yawned "But for now, I need to get some shut-eye."


	7. Ruby, Ruby, Ruby

Thursday night evolved into Friday morning; the renewed sunlight awakening Sam from deep slumber. 7:30 a.m. If Sam recalled correctly, the café didn't open until Midday. Luckily, school would be able to kill a few hours until he could see his brother again. Throwing on yesterday's shirt, fresh plaid and his work jeans, Sam headed downstairs to seize himself some breakfast.

The bus arrived to take him to school twenty minutes later. As he reached the front gates, Sam was greeted by a familiar face, with dark curly hair and a menacing smile.

"Good morning, Sam." Ruby spoke, her voice rich with a seductive quality.

"Hello Ruby. What ten year old did you get pleasure out of beating up today?" Sam replied bluntly, briskly trying to walk away from her.

Ruby smirked. "Oh Sam, you're so funny." She caught up to him, gently brushing her arm against his as she did so. Sam did like Ruby. She had an addictive quality that he couldn't brush away, however, that didn't mean that he had to agree with her aggressive tendencies.

Seating themselves at the back of the class, Ruby swiftly noticed Sam's uneasy energy.

"What's the matter Sam? Did you and daddy have an argument again?" she mocked in a babyish tone.

Sam frowned, slightly adjusting his jaw.

"You could say that, yeah."

Realising Sam was truly distressed, Ruby's tone soften, and her usually arrogant demeanour peeled away to reveal a kinder, more relatable one.

"How bad?"

Sam's brow furrowed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have a brother." He mumbled anxiously, not knowing how Ruby would react.

"WHAT?!" Ruby shouted, a little louder than she had meant to, causing the class to turn and the teacher to hush her. Sheepishly, Ruby returned her gaze to Sam. "What do you mean you have a brother?"  
Sam's hands fell to the table in defeat. "How can I put it any other way Ruby? I have a brother, ok… and," he paused momentarily, "my mom is still alive."

Mouth opened in shock, Ruby tried her hardest to find words. "How did you find out?" she finally uttered.

"I read one of dad's emails. He forgot to sign out. Big mistake." He sighed regretting his previous actions.

"Are you going to meet them?" Ruby asked pryingly.

"I already have. Well, Dean anyway. I don't think I want to meet Mary."

"Woah, woah, woah. Hold up a mo cowboy. You met him already? Did he recognise you? Does he know?"

"Calm down Ruby, it was more of an accident really. See, I looked up Mo- I mean- Mary's email address and it sent me to the site of a small café business, fifteen minutes away. Obviously, I thought to check it out. I had no intention of seeing or even talking to Dean, but it turns out that he works there more than his mom does. I didn't even know it was him until after we'd been chatting for three hours."

Ruby exhaled quickly, still trying to digest everything Sam had just told her. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ruby finally asked, "What are you going to do?"  
Sam looked up at her for the first time since the conversation had started, stared straight into her eyes, lowered his head and finally replied,

"Honestly, Ruby, I really don't know."


	8. Parent Trap

Discovering that his afternoon classes had been cancelled, Sam ventured back home, feeling marginally more optimistic about the entire situation after his conversation with Ruby. As spiteful as she could be, at times, Ruby gave good advice when she wanted to, and Sam now felt as though he could finally face this affair alone.

However, as he reached his house and unlocked the front door with his key, he paused. Two voices emerged from the kitchen: one male, the other female, both seeming to be in disagreement with one another. Cautiously, Sam lent against the kitchen door and listened intently.

"How could you let him find out, John? _Especially_ this way?" The female voice interrogated.

"Look, Mary-"

Mary?" Sam muttered confoundedly. Panic dripped down his spine as his hand pressed against the door. Silently standing there, Sam watched as his mother slowly came into his view.

"M-mom?" Sam began to well up at the sight of her. Startled, both John and Mary turned to witness their son's horrified expression.

"Sam? Why aren't you at school?" John panicked.

Ignoring him, Sam continued to stare at Mary. She timidly wandered towards him, reaching out to stroke his face. He flinched at her touch, at how alien it felt to him, but eventually allowed her to adopt the role she'd neglected to take from the start of his existence. Sam stared in awe of his mother's beauty: her lustrous blonde hair, her soft, aged eyes, her petite figure and the way she placed more weight on her left leg slightly as she stood. All these things left Sam with the heart-cramping question of how someone this caring and this beautiful could possibly leave her own child. Sinking back into the agony of reality, Sam brushed Mary's hand away.

"How could you do this to me mom?" He asked, droplets of salted water dripping off his chin, to the floor. "How could you leave me?"

Mary glanced back at John. "I- We…We did what we thought was right at the time, for you and for Dean. We-"

"Does Dean know? About me?" Sam interposed, furious at his parent's hesitancy.

"Well…"

"I have a right to know." Sam snapped, alarming his traumatised mother.

"…No. I don't think he remembers either." Mary mumbled, ashamed of her actions. Sam scoffed.

"Great. Were you ever going to tell him? Actually no, don't answer that. I'm done with both of you. How dare you do this to us? I will never forgive either of you, and I pray to god that Dean doesn't either." With that, Sam picked up his keys from the table to his left and thundered out of the door, mortified at how unpleasant his first encounter with Mary was.

Mary turned back to face John; her expression distraught, his showing a mixture of embarrassment and sympathy.

"Are you going to follow him?" Mary inquired solemnly.

"No. He needs time alone right now, Mary. This is hard for him, Ok? This time yesterday, he believed his mother was dead would have laughed in my face if I had told him about his brother. Everything's changed for him, and it may not be a good thing…" John replied, full of sorrow. "God knows how Deans going to react. Christ he's going to think I abandoned him."

"Well," Mary replied, her tone aggravated somewhat, "let's hope this all works out for the best. I won't be telling Dean just yet, so please, do whatever you can to stop him finding out."

"Sure." John nodded in understanding, watching his previous lover leave him for the second time in his life.


	9. Sam-ones Hungry For Deaner

Sam checked his phone. 13:03, no missed calls, no texts and a notification for an app update. He shoved it back in his pocket, half relieved, half disappointed that no one had offered their support, and collapsed onto the nearest park swing. Gently pushing his weight with his legs, Sam allowed the swing to rock back and forth, as he took interest in his surroundings. Families sat eating picnics in the sun. Fathers carried their sons and daughters upon their shoulders. Mothers helped their children clamber up the slides and watched in awe as they gracelessly slithered back down. All these things, every single one, Sam had never experienced. Never had he felt his mother's soft kiss upon his cheek as she tucked him in at night. Never had he heard the peaceful tone of her voice as she lulled him to sleep. Never had he known the true meaning of family. To Sam, family was spending most of his time alone, working or otherwise. Family meant nothing to him, until he had met Dean. Dean was his family now. When he was in Dean's company, Sam felt safe; he felt protected. And that was something that no one could take away.

The bell attached to the café door jingled lightly as he entered the room. Similar scents wafted up his nose as before. Unlike before, however, a lot of seats were being occupied by business men on their lunch break, a few small groups of teens, and a family of five. Fortunately, the seat Sam had chosen last time had been left alone. Sitting down comfortably, Sam grabbed the menu and decided to order some lunch on top of his coffee.

"What can I get y-" the waiter paused. "Well look who decided to return!"

Sam laughed slightly. "Yeah, I'm back, and I am mega hungry, so I will have a coffee and the chicken salad please."

"Ok dokey. And may I compliment you on what an amazingly poor taste in food you have." Dean winked audaciously. Sam's lips couldn't help but turn upward at his brother's sprightly nature.

Fifteen minutes passed and Sam had nearly finished wolfing down his salad. The lunch time rush had calmed down and now only Sam and a cutesy couple, sat a few feet away, inhabited the café. Drying his hands with a towel, Dean drifted over. "Well, I hate to say it, but you really enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Sam rolled his eyes light-heartedly "Isn't this joke getting kinda old now?"

Dean acknowledged his bad taste in humour, paused, and decided to change the subject.

"So what brings you back here so soon?"

"You mean, apart from the extremely nosy waiters?" Both brothers grinned, until Sam's face grew solemn. "Honestly? It's family."

"Not a family man, ey?" Dean looked at him pitifully.

Sam laughed, almost hysterically, at the sheer volume of stress he'd dealt with these past two days.

"Yeah, you could say that. My dad and I… Well let's just say, we don't get on much anymore."

"Ah man. I'd say I understand, but I never knew my dad."

"You're lucky." Sam thought to himself, angrily.

Dean continued "Look, I may be wrong but, in my eyes, family is what you make of it." He hesitated, "I live alone with my mum, but, I consider my family to be infinite, because family," He paused, "Ain't just the genetics you share with people, it's the bond."

Sam bowed his head, and met with Dean's radioactive- green eyes.

"But haven't you ever wanted another sibling; someone else to spend time with?" Sam queried, his brow puckered.

"Of course I have, but I can either sit alone, dreaming of what will never happen… Or," Dean leant forward, his elbows resting on the table, "I can live in the moment."

It pained Sam, having to keep quiet about their relation, but Dean was right, Sam needed to start living in the moment, instead of waiting for what may never happen. Dean would find out eventually, and that is all Sam needed to know.

Smiling in acceptance of Dean's philosophy, the brothers soon returned to discussing topics of a more upbeat nature. Dean would occasionally leave to serve customers, forcing Sam to ruminate over the future, against his best effort, until his brother returned with a captivating new story for Sam to sink his teeth into. They talked and talked until the Sun sank behind the forest of trees on the horizon. Bursts of orange blended with shades of candyfloss pink, before being engulfed by a deep menacing blue that glistened with specs of light when full.

Sam hunched over the café sink, washing up the final piece of cutlery. As the evening had progressed, the café's business blossomed, so Sam felt it right to offer his assistance, as his brother worked hard preparing the food. Dean peered into the kitchen from the counter. "Thanks again for this man. I wouldn't have coped on my own."

"Don't mention it." Sam replied jauntily, thrilled that he could finally repay Dean for all the advice he had offered over the past two days. Suddenly, the bell jingled, snapping Sam back to reality, and welcoming what Sam thought was another customer. However, as soon as the 'customer's' voice hit Sam's ear drum, his blood ran cold. It was Mary.

"Hey sweetie," she said to Dean as she brushed her feet on the door mat. "How was your day?"

"Great, thanks mom. It was busy, though. I probably wouldn't have gotten through it without my little helper." Dean gestured to Sam, who reticently revealed himself from his hiding place. He smiled, slightly cringing at having to see Mary for the second time today. A cold sweat began to intensify on Mary's forehead as she saw Sam lean against the door frame that connected the counter to the kitchen.

"A pleasure to meet you." Sam greeted, hoping that his mother would reciprocate his act.

"You too, kiddo." She replied, latching onto Sam's cue. "But it's getting late; surely your family will be starting to worry."

Sam knew it wasn't that late, but took Mary's hint and bid farewell to his family.

"Thanks again for helping out, Sammy. I mean it." Dean called as his brother headed toward the door.

"Anytime." Sam replied, smiling briefly at Dean, and nodding his head at Mary as he left.

As the door gently closed, Mary turned her attention to Dean and, trying to conceal her true emotions, said "He seemed nice."

Scrubbing the tables with his worn cloth, Dean's lips stretched out into a full toothy grin. "Yeah, I only met him yesterday, but I already feel like we're brothers."

Saliva trapped itself at the back of Mary's throat, choking her a little. "Wow," she replied. "Well I'm glad to see you've made a new friend sweetie. Are you ready to lock up?"

Dean threw the damp cloth in the sink, untied his apron and followed his mother into the car. After seeing Sam again, Dean felt certain that he'd made a friend for life. Their instant bond had to mean something, though, surely?


	10. Chevy

Several days passed, each one reinforcing the strength of Sam and Dean's bond. Sam had visited the café every day since his first encounter with Dean, and every time he did so, they would share stories of their past and dreams of the future. They would reveal to each other their darkest secrets and moments of deepest embarrassment, all whilst Dean remained oblivious to their biological relation, until May 2nd soon arrived.

May 2nd: a Saturday and Sam's 18th. He awakened to see his eager father perched at the foot of his bed, holding an enveloped card that seemed to bulge slightly in the middle. Having patched things up as much as possible, after Sam's trip to the café the Sunday prior, Sam and John could finally hold a normal, if slightly awkward, conversation again. They still weren't as close as they used to be, but John had certainly been trying.

"Happy Birthday, son." He half- smiled, as he handed over the envelope. Sam lifted his weight wearily, until he was sat upright. Stretching out his arms, he grasped the card and began to tear zealously at the paper. His eyes widened when a set of car keys and four fifty dollar notes dropped out. His mouth agape, Sam gazed up at his father, then back down at the gifts.

"Thanks, dad." He said through a shocked laugh, in the knowledge of John's constant financial struggles.

Modestly, John stammered, "I only wish I could give you more."

"Dad, are you kidding? This is more than I- I just can't believe-" he laughed, "This is amazing. Thank you, dad." Sam picked up the keys from his lap and stared at his dad in anticipation, "Can we?"

John nodded, following his son outside to the drive. As Sam opened the front door, his heart skipped at the sight of the sleek, powerful figure of a '67 Chevy Impala. He glanced back at his dad. "Your first car. I-" he broke off, almost tearing up "Dad, are you sure?"

"Yeah of course I am, Sam. You deserve it."

For the briefest of moments, both Sam and John's eyes met. However, feeling the uneasiness linger through them, John uncomfortably cleared his throat and continued.

"Uh… I fixed her up, gave her a fresh coat of paint, so she should be working fine. Just promise me you'll look after her."

Sam grinned, still elated at his father's benevolence. "Don't worry. I will."

"So where you gonna to take her first?" John asked, enthused that his little boy now had his first set of wheels. Sam knew exactly where he needed to be.

"Oh I have a place in mind." He called back, sprinting inside to get dressed.


	11. Beg, Steal and Regret

Anxiously parking his new car into a slightly-too-small-for-comfort space, Sam buzzed with anticipation at the thought of spending his 18th with his brother. As he stepped out of the Impala, however, his anticipation soon absconded at the sight of Mary, who was leaning against the side wall of the café, cigarette in hand, the weight of the world upon her shoulders.

"Damn." Sam scolded as Mary became aware of his presence and marched towards him.

"Sam." She stated, monotonously. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, Mary." His lips twitched with agitation. Hoping that was the end of their conversation, Sam began his stroll toward the café, completely forgetting to lock the Impala before he did so.

"Actually, Sam," Mary beckoned. "I wanted to talk to you… about Dean."

Sam's ears pricked up at the mention of his brother's name. He turned. Striding back to where he'd just been, Sam tuned into what Mary had to say.

"I know what your intentions are… with Dean." She swallowed hard, "I know you plan to tell him who you are. I'd be foolish if I assumed you wouldn't. But please, I beg of you to not say a word. If he were to find out that I lied to him, he'd never forgive me. So please Sam," Mary pleaded, her eyes large as she looked up at her son, "Please don't tell him."

Sam looked down at her, feeling a sense of overwhelming superiority. He cackled slightly.  
"You don't want me to tell him, because you're afraid it will jeopardise _your_ relationship with him. I'm sorry, but I fail to see how this is my problem." He glared at his feeble mother, expecting an answer. When she gave none, he continued, "Because, last time I checked, you and dad lied to _us_. In fact, you should be grateful that I'm actually trying to fix your problems." Mary hung her head in shame. "So I'm going to go in there, I'm going to enjoy my birthday _with my brother_, and, when the opportunity arises, I _will_ tell him who I really am. And there is _nothing_ you can do to stop me." Power surged through Sam's veins, as though Lucifer himself had scuttled into his very soul. He turned his back on Mary, exhaled deeply, and journeyed toward the café. Panicked, Mary briskly shadowed Sam's footsteps, with full intention of protecting her precious boy from the destruction of his younger brother.

Entering the café, Sam's usual spot greeted him with balloons, a clumsily wrapped present and a small, candled cup-cake.

"Happy birthday, Sammy!" Dean welcomed him with open arms which Sam eagerly walked into; latching onto the comfort that it gave him. Smiling peacefully, Sam took a seat at the table; his brother seating himself opposite. They both exchanged grins of extreme elation as they took in the thrill of the moment.

"So… Are you gonna open it or what?" Dean asked playfully.

"Sure. This is great by the way! Thank you so much." Sam responded; bliss filling up every inch of his body, spirit and soul.

"Don't sweat it, dude. Honestly, you're like a brother to me. This is the least I could do."

Sam's heart sank as he contemplated whether now would be the right time to tell him.

"Hey Dean," Mary interrupted meekly from behind Sam, "Just popped in to see if you needed a hand. You just seem a little," she paused and glared vindictively at Sam, "busy."

Sam returned the glare with a hint of innocence, as Mary began to wait the only two tables that were occupied, bringing his attention back to the gift at Dean's signal.

Two Metallica cassette tapes and an empty café later, Sam thanked Dean, once again, for everything. He inhaled faintly, but enough to force Dean to focus raptly. When, after a long pause, Sam still hadn't spoken, Dean affirmed:

"You look troubled."

Sam exhaled, meeting eyes with Dean. After another short pause, Sam finally said, "OK. Here goes." Dean's eyebrows rose in a perplexed manner. "Right… So you know when I first came here, and you said that I looked distracted?"

"M-hm."

"Well I was distracted because… well because…"

"Spit it out, Sammy! Jeesh, you sure know how to drag things out." Dean smiled nervously.

"I found out that you're m-"

"Are you boys enjoying yourselves?" Mary suddenly cut in. "Can I get you anything?" She was trying to change the subject, Sam realised.

"No we're fine thanks mom." Dean replied bluntly.

"Yeah thanks _mom._" Sam muttered, so that it was only audible to Mary's ears.

Knowing that that may have been her final attempt to prevent Sam from spewing her darkest secret, Mary surrendered, retreating back to the counter where she acted intent on cleaning the sides.

"You were saying?" Dean invited Sam to continue. He tried his hardest to find the courage to say what needed to be said, until eventually, the words rolled out.

"Dean… You're my brother."


	12. Blood Spills

"Ah you too man." Dean grinned, completely misinterpreting Sam's words.

"No, Dean. I am your actual brother. Mary: she's my mother. And your dad, well, he's my dad too."

Dean's expression froze in shock.

"I'm sorry… I don't—so… we're… we're like blood related?"

"Yes, and I'm only sorry that I was the one who had to tell you."

"B-but… How could I not know…? How could I not remember…? H-how could you not tell me, mom?" Dean said peering round to his mother, who stood, arms loosely crossed, behind him.

"Honey, I only did what—"

"Save it Mary. He doesn't want to listen to your excuses." Sam interjected spitefully, meeting eyes with a hooded figure that sneakily walked past the café window, outside.

Dean's chest tightened as a single tear flowed from his left eye. Pain lurked around in the pit of his stomach, churning and churning as he tried to digest this information. Unconsciously, he arose from his seat and stared at the wall opposite him. Sam mirrored his actions, slowly taking a step towards Dean, in order to comfort him. Dean tilted his head, still consumed by thought.

"And… You knew? Sammy? H-how long have you known?"

Sam sighed, admitting his deception. "I found out the day I met you. It was purely accidental, Dean. I'm in the same boat as you."

"Dean," Mary reached out toward her eldest son, "honey, sit down and we can talk about thi—"

"DON'T TOUCH ME." Dean yelled, his voice quivering as much as the rest of his body, "OK? Don't you dare."

"Dean." Sam called. "Maybe we—"

"No. Sammy. You lied to me too. You have no right to speak to me right now." Dean argued; his sight still glued to that one particular spot on the wall.

"Sam, you should leave now." Mary said, standing her ground.

"I should leave?! I'm sorry, but how is this suddenly _my_ fault, Mary?"

"I told you not to tell him. I begged you, Sam, and you still disobeyed me. What made you think this could possi—?"

"ENOUGH: BOTH OF YOU." Both Mary and Sam's attention focused on Dean. "I can't believe either of you." His eyes softened into despair, "Sam. I thought we were friends. Friends don't keep secrets?"

"Dean I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner—"

An internal time bomb finally exploded in Dean's mind. He'd had enough. Body, finally catching up to mind, Dean stormed rashly out of the café, kicking a chair as he left.

"Dean!" Sam chased after him, Mary following swiftly behind. Both of them stood restlessly by the café door as they witnessed Dean dash across the road. A roar of a '67 engine and a screech of tyres rapidly became audible, but not soon enough to save him. Shock bolted through Mary and Sam as Dean's body smashed gracelessly onto the front window of the Chevy Impala. Blood dripped from the bonnet as Sam's car halted to an abrupt stop.


	13. He's Broken

"DEAN!" Sam screamed from the base of his lungs. Mary stood trembling vigorously, her hands pressed hard against her cheeks. Dean's body lay limp in the middle of the road, as Sam approached it with fear. Passers-by stopped to witness the occurrence, some grouping together to decide how to help, one proceeding to call an ambulance, none of them, however, getting within a 3 metre radius of Sam and Dean.

"Dean. Dean, c'mon please, please wake up, Dean. I can't lose you... Not now." Sam sobbed; as he knelt down to check Dean's pulse and breathing: both weak. Two ambulances shortly pulled up beside the Impala, paramedics gripping Sam tight and pulling him away from his broken brother.

"No." Sam screamed, "No, he's my brother! Please, he needs me." He rambled hysterically as more paramedics proceeded to carefully manoeuvre Dean's body, onto a stretcher.

A number of police cars swiftly approached the scene. A nurse kindly led Sam to a police officer who wanted to ask him some standardised questions, while the other officers checked the driver's side of the Impala.

"He seems unconscious," stated one of them, "Can we get some paramedics over here please?" He continued as another stretcher came to assist the driver's body. Suddenly seeing through the shock, Sam's heart pumped with lethal dread when he realised that the car that had killed his brother was the one he'd been driving less than 3 hours ago.

"That's my car…" He murmured, catching the attention of the officer who had been questioning him.

"I'm sorry?" The officer replied, slightly puzzled.

"That's my car; the Impala. It's mine… But how did…?" And then he remembered. Regret. Anger. Self-disgust. "This was my fault." Sam widened eyes met with the officer's. "I forgot to lock my car… then that driver… he must have hotwired it… and_ he_ killed my brother… But it's _my_ fault."

Appreciating that Sam was still in a state of shock; the officer summoned another paramedic to aid Sam in recovery; enforcing that they would discuss this further at the hospital.

After clearing the scene and discussing their plan, the officers and paramedics entered their vehicles, sirens wailing stridently. Against his will, Sam had been forced to share an ambulance with the criminal, as Mary sat comfortably by Dean's side, full of regret and, to an extent, relief that she was finally able to be with her true son, away from Sam's infuriating, destructive presence.


	14. Never Awaken His Final Breath

"Will he wake up?" John snapped impatiently, watching the pain on Mary's face double.

"Well, in short: your son is comatose and the chances of him awakening soon are slim. The damage to his head is very serious and, if not dealt with right away, will lead to further complications. But everything will be ok: we have our best surgeon in today, and he will do his very best to save your son." The doctor smiled sympathetically, knowing the truth of the matter. Even after the operation, the chances of Dean waking up were still under 20%.

"Thank you, doctor." Mary said; her voice barely audible. The doctor smiled and continued down the corridor, leaving the family behind. Sam still stood awkwardly behind his parents, in hope that they had finally forgotten about his existence. He despised himself. The very thought of his own being caused his soul to rot away; his emotions continuing to grate at his essence, thrusting him deeper and deeper into the pit of hell, until he could no longer imprison the pain. He ran; out of the hospital and into the freedom of an idealistic world, letting his emotions flow freely with him. The tears streamed; the pain screamed; his heart opened, each little snag of emotion pouring from it, into the simplicity of the earth that stood before him. He breathed; a heavy breath, a relief. For the smallest of moments, he felt free; alive.

That was until reality sank in; until Mary came to view. She had somehow persuaded John that she should be the one to follow Sam out of the hospital, and so there she was, a manipulative grin upon her face, trapping Sam back to the sunken pit.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" She asked compassionately. "How are you coping, having put your brother in hospital?" Her compassion was washed away with spite. Angered by her childish behaviour, Sam attempted to set a truce between them both.

"Look, Mary. I love Dean as much as you do. I won't ever forgive myself for letting this happen, for putting Dean's life in danger… and… I won't ever stop blaming myself either." He paused, tears choking his words. "I can only pray for Dean's recovery. I only wish that I could be in that operation theatre, instead of him. But that won't happen. So either we set aside our differences, and get through this together, or we continue to fight, until Dean awakens again." Sam stared deep into Mary's painfully sad eyes, awaiting an answer.

"You do realise the doctors haven't given us the full story, right? That they only told us good news to make us feel better? I overheard them talking. They know he's not going to wake up, Sam. He won't wake up again and it's your fault. You took my son away from me because of your selfish ambitions, and know you're trying to 'kiss and make-up'. Nothing you ever do will heal the scars you've made." Mary wept mournfully, through her words of hatred. "You're right, though." She continued, composing herself, as Sam became absorbed by this news. "You do deserve to be in that hospital bed. Not Dean. And I pity you really… It must be hard when everything you touch, crumbles around you. I mean really, Sam. How do you face each day?"

Sam knew that Mary was deliberately trying to manipulate his emotions, but part of him knew, deep down, that she was right. Everything he touched crumbled around him; why else would his own mother have abandoned him? How had he faced each day? And now, with Dean, how would he continue facing them? He couldn't carry on without Dean by his side. He was the only person who made him feel safe, happy… alive. Without Dean, Sam was dead inside. "You know, I never thought I'd ever say this, but, I'm actually ashamed to call you my son, Sam." Mary finished; her voice sincere. Without another word, she cleared her throat and proceeded to re-enter the hospital.

Sam felt his self-disgust grow. He tried relentlessly to ignore Mary's words, but the harder he tried the further into his head they stuck. He was ashamed with himself. His life was a burden to everyone around him, and the impossibility of Dean awakening brought an insanity inducing thought into Sam's already damaged mind; a thought so compelling, he began to advance towards it, away from the hospital and toward the bridge that overlooked the river, nearby…

Blocking out the sounds of his heart telling him to keep fighting, Sam stood upon the edge of the bridge, staring down at his future. He hesitated, but insisted at the thought of being surrounded by Dean's spirit, once again. Gently closing his eyes, feeling the mild wind rock him, Sam made his final prayers. "Please, bring Dean the peace he deserves." He whispered; his voice surprisingly steady, given what he was about to do. Sam raised his arms up fearlessly and let his body grow limp, allowing the wind to do the rest of the work. Pedestrians grabbed gently at Sam's legs, attempting to steal his freedom, as he felt the concrete drift away from beneath him. Nothing could stop this now. Nothing could prevent Sam from freeing everyone of his affliction. Air flowed elegantly in, and around, Sam's body as his descent began. Gravity pulled him closer and closer to the shallow water below. Tranquillity filled him as each struggle, each problem, and each pain, floated away with the clarity of the air, until he could no longer feel a thing. The fire of Sam's soul slowly burnt out just as his body met the solid earth. He rested: still, peaceful, alone at last.


	15. Taken So Soon

Sam's wrecked body lay lifeless upon the hospital bed. After Sam's fall, an ambulance rescue team had tried their very best to resuscitate him, with little luck, and now he lay there, beside John, who's pain and loss couldn't be verbalised. He was saying a final, distraught good-bye to his precious son.  
"I can't even begin to understand why this happened, Sam; why you'd ever think that we'd be better off without you; that you didn't deserve to be here. I know I could have been a better father to you, and I really did try to be." He wailed, trying his hardest to hold back his grief. "I just can't believe you're gone. I just can't… You were so young, had so much potential, so much spirit. You can't be gone. Please, please come back, son. I need you. I want you back. I—" Sorrow consumed John as he clutched onto Sam's limp hand. Tears couldn't stop escaping him. He howled; longing for his son's return, knowing deep down it would never come. Guilt knocked on the ward door, witnessing her ex-husband's agony.

She wandered over and crouched beside him, offering her support. Never would she confess that she may have robbed John of a son; purely because she couldn't admit it herself. Mary continued to deny all responsibility, even though she knew she was solely to blame.

"It's ok, John. It'll all be ok." She softly rubbed John's back, trying to hold back the tears, herself. She ached at the knowledge of having to lose two sons today, empathising fully with the agony John's moans.


	16. Look Who's Awake

Hours had passed before they had managed to compose themselves as their mourning soon became interrupted by a soft voice.

"Mary? Mary Campbell? It's about Dean. Could you please follow me?"

Mary's throat grew dry, making it harder to swallow, as she reluctantly trailed behind the nurse. John walked by her side, reaching out to hold her hand. She back gripped tight, in fear.

"Is- is everything ok? Is Dean—?" She cut out, unable to finish her sentence.

"Well, the operation was a success. The surgeon managed to remove most of the debris from his brain, and without any hiccups… but…" Mary gulped, anticipating the worst. "Well… We certainly didn't expect a recovery this fast. By some divine miracle, Dean's awake." Mary squealed and John grinned, both ecstatic with the news. "One thing to mention, though: he keeps calling out for a… Sammy? Is Sammy here today?" The nurse asked politely, hoping not to intrude on a private matter. John's smile rapidly turned to an expression of horror at the realisation that he was not the only one to have lost Sam today. Glancing up at John, Mary answered on his behalf, her voice growing weaker with each word,

"Urm… No… Sam can't be with us today. He, uh, passed away recently."

Respectful silence filled the corridor.

"Oh… I'm so sorry for your loss." Replied the nurse thoughtfully, directing them into a room where Dean lay on a bed, disorientated. John waited outside, allowing Mary time alone with her son. Mary walked in and sat beside him, gently clutching his hand.

"Oh Dean, I'm so glad you're ok sweetie. You had us all worried."

"Sammy? Mom, where's Sam?" Dean asked; his voice husky and tired.

Mary's smile drooped. Alarmed by her lack of words, Dean used the little energy he had to sit upright. "Mom," He repeated, more stern than before, "Where's Sam? Where's my brother?"

"Oh, Dean… Well, you have to bear in mind that… None of us could predict your recovery. Sam, well, he- he couldn't cope with you being gone. He blamed himself for you being here, so… well, so he…" She trembled. Regret. Anger. Self-disgust. All the emotions Sam had experienced hours ago now cultivated in the pit of Mary's stomach.

"What? You mean Sam… Sammy's gone?" Dean interrogated through agonising tears, distressed, distraught; _sickened,_ at the thought of never seeing his brother again. "And you didn't stop him? You didn't support him? Why weren't you there for him mom? Why didn't you help?" Dean barked, the volume of his voice increasing with each question. His breath became short and strained as the trauma sank in. _He_ knew none of this was Sam's fault; none of it. For Sam to take his own life- because of him- he just couldn't process how his _own mother_ had allowed this happen. Electronic beeps alerted nurses of Dean's stress and brought them to his bedside.

"Easy Dean," They said softly, fiddling with the different mechanisms surrounding his bed. "Don't push yourself too hard, ok?"

"I want her out of here." Dean slurred as he slumped back down, in his bed. "Get her out. I can't bear to look at her."

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." A nurse called to Mary, escorting her out of the ward, to reception, where she was forced to sign out.


	17. John's Gratitude

After watching Mary unwillingly leave, John continued to wait outside Dean's ward, attempting to pluck up enough courage to talk to him; father to son, after his 17 years of absence. A nurse swiftly noticed his hesitation and ensured John that he could go in if he wanted. Thanking the nurse, John breathed a heavy sigh, and walked into the room, legs trembling with each step. Noticing he had a visitor, Dean adjusted his torso, groaning as he moved.

"Easy Dean," John soothed, resting a hand upon his son's wounded shoulder. Dean stared at John, trying his hardest to identify him. Finally, it clicked. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened.

"Dad?" He asked, still befuddled by the man who appeared before him.

"Hi, Dean," John gave a self-conscious half-smile, "Look I know I have a lot to answer for, just strolling in here, now, after leaving you, but this is important so I need you to listen. It's about Sam… and Mary."

Dean lay there, silenced by disbelief, gesturing for John to continue.

"Sam thinks— thought," He corrected. The fact that he would never see Sam's face again still hadn't sunk in. "the world of you. I mean, he idolised you. When you two first met, something inside him changed. For the first time in forever, he was happy— and not just "everyday happy"— I mean… like he actually started to enjoy my cooking. No one enjoys my cooking." He chuckled nervously, realising that he'd begun to ramble. "Honestly? I think I actually saw him smile more in the past week than I ever had before you both met, and it's all thanks to you Dean. I guess I just wanted to tell you… how grateful I am to you, for making his last moments on Earth, his most happiest." John sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes. He raised his head in time to see Dean mirror his actions. "And Mary; as much as she is family, and as much as she has looked after you all these years: she's not all there, Dean, she never was. I mean, why do you think I left? I never wanted to leave you, but I had to leave Mary, and I'm not defending my actions, but you just needed to know… And now, with Sam gone, I just want to tell you that no one can control your life, and what you choose to do with it, ok? You have a right to be happy. So just make sure you do what you want to do, with the time you've got, because who knows how long we'll be here." With that, John rose from his seat and left the ward, bidding a final farewell to Dean as he went.

His father's words had left Dean with the overpowering will to rebel, against everyone and, as his consciousness slowly faded away, he lay dreaming of a revolution, involving a '67 Chevy Impala, his life savings, and a journey to somewhere far away. The Chevy, of course, would need to be fixed up before he hit the road. He'd have to sort out insurance and everything, but that wouldn't be enough to stop him pursuing his ambitions. As John said, this was Dean's life- no one else's- and now that Sam had left him, the only thing he could do, was improvise. As soon as he hit recovery, Dean would finally start living for himself, without his mother, without his father, without his friends; alone on the road, and enjoying every moment of solitude.


	18. A Spirit Gets Attached

June arrived with a fiery spirit as Dean packed the last of his clothes and tied up his laces. The Impala was all set and he was finally ready to hit the road. A note had been left on the kitchen table for Mary to weep over, although she secretly knew this had been inevitable since the accident.

Engine roaring, The Beatles blaring, it was time; time to say goodbye to this life, and greet the new one with open arms. Maybe he'd find a girl, settle down, and have a family. Or maybe he'd just stay on the road, floating between each town until his aged presence had been clutched by death. Whatever Dean decided to do, he was happy that he could finally do it for himself. Taking in the beauty of this undiscovered road, Dean somehow overlooked the slight glitch that occurred out of the corner of his eye… He blinked at the wrong moment and missed it. Until it happened again; this time, staying long enough for Dean to notice. He jumped, swerving the car slightly off-road as a friendly voice awakened the fear in his mind.

_"Hello, Dean."_

_…_


End file.
